


Saving me.

by JulesDizzy



Category: Wanted (2008), X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 02:16:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15831699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JulesDizzy/pseuds/JulesDizzy
Summary: When in her darkest hour, Hailey finds a light.





	Saving me.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first attempt to bring angst and abuse into one of my stories, and I hope that I didn't blow it.   
> I can't really explain how it came to my mind to write this.  
> However, I would be very grateful for any kind of feedback.   
> I really hope, I got it right.

This was not the way I had thought things would go. I looked at my reflection in the dusty and shattered window. My hair was a mess, my ponytail not quite in place anymore, my shirt was ripped in several places, my pants also showed holes and the scratches underneath. Everything hurt, not just the apparent wounds on my skin, but also my muscles and seemingly my bones. Not that this feeling was new to me, but it was different this time. How had I ended up here? I turned around and walked towards the railing. This place looked nothing like an airport anymore, with the broken furniture, dirt all over the place, little fires here and there. It was pure chaos. The explosion had done its job very well. And even though this was not quite how things had been planned, no one would believe that I was still alive. 

I heard steps right that second and turned around to face the door. Coming towards me was my saviour, the one who had helped me fake my death. He looked just as wrecked as I did, but still, I fell for his every move. His brown hair fell into his face, right over his very blue eyes. I could see the scratches and marks on his skin through the torn fabric of his suit. He smiled in relief, letting out an audible sigh when he saw me, and I felt my heartbeat increasing. There was something about him that I couldn’t resist – and God knows I had tried. “Thank God you’re alive!”, he said when he finally reached me. I found myself in his embrace and flung my arms around him, wincing a little – I felt every one of my injuries sting. “Just because of you, James.” We stood there for a moment, just breathing each other in. My heart was pounding fast and loud against his chest, but it slowly calmed down now. When he let go of me, I was almost thankful. “Did I hurt you?”, he asked when he saw me flinch a little. “No, no it’s fine”, I said hastily, “really, don’t worry!” He looked into my eyes, his hands on my cheeks now, and said: “I’m so glad it worked.” Before I could say a word, I felt his lips on mine, gentle and rough at the same time. I melted into the kiss, but the rest of my body just froze – no movement, no shivers, no goosebumps, and my heart felt like it had stopped. When he let go of me, I exhaled a breath I hadn’t realised I’d been holding. Looking into his eyes now, I remembered how it all had started and how far we’d come. 

 

[Three weeks earlier] 

The sun rose with vast amounts of orange and violet, making the sky look oddly fabricated. I looked out into the distance. From my hotel room, I could see all of Manhattan, and the Central Park was laid out to my feet like a red – or green – carpet. With a sigh, I dropped my towel and turned around to get myself dressed. The man I had been married to a few months ago, Ramon Alvarez, was throwing yet another one of his decadent parties – to show me off, of course. I was his jewel; I was his great victory. This was no marriage out of love, no, I was a mortgage – and I was not going to be given back. My father had cried and screamed when they had come to take me away. But now I was here, in this huge room all alone, putting on my best underwear because I wasn’t too eager to get hit again for wearing “insulting laundry” as he would put it. When I stepped in front of the mirror I frowned – there was a large bruise on my body along the left side of my rib cage. It was of an utterly unnatural blackish colour, the edges turning yellow. I turned around and examined all the other black and blue marks on my skin. Yes, he loved to hit me, grab me, throw me around like I was a toy. Of course, he only hurt me where my clothes could hide it. I rarely spoke in his presence because one wrong word could get my bones broken. 

Due to all my marks, getting dressed on my own was almost impossible. I winced as I put on my laundry and then called for the maid. Yes, a maid - I hated to call her that. She was such a sweet person, but they treated her like dirt. I was sure that she got hit, too. It felt like living in the dark ages – or at least what I imagined the dark ages had been like. Rosa came in immediately to help me put on my dress. She was extra gentle, trying not to touch my bruises too much. She was likely the only one who sympathised with me, who understood my golden-cage-like situation. Once she was done, I looked at myself in the mirror. I was a stunning picture of a beautiful girl with ashen skin and long dark hair. There was no visible sign of the abuse I went through every night, of the pain and the angst and the helplessness, but the look in my eyes. 

It was not uncommon for Ramon to throw these kinds of parties in the morning. There were not many local people present, but people with jet lag who came from countries all around Africa and eastern Europe. People who felt like it was 9 pm. When I entered the room, everyone looked up. As always, I earned astonished looks and murmurs. Then he introduced me: “There she is, my jewel, my star! Say hello to my lovely wife, Hailey!” People applauded, weirdly enough, and he came towards me, putting his arm around my waist, pressing his hand on the sizeable throbbing bruise he had given me two nights ago. A sudden stinging pain went through my body, and I contained the urge to wince audibly. At that moment I felt my mind fleeing, hiding away in that little imaginary room in my head I had created for myself. From now on I would just function. I’d remember nothing of this day by the time I’d fall asleep tonight, no conversations or names, not the main course nor the desert. Or so I thought. 

I woke from my purely functional state of mind when I saw a man enter the room. He was of average height and probably in his thirties, his brown hair falling softly into his beautiful face. His blue eyes scanned the room carefully. What made him stand out was his white origin in this crowd of brown, black and caramel type people. The moment I saw him, I snapped back to reality – and I came to regret that immediately. I felt my bruises all at once, and I could smell the sickening perfume of my husband causing me to retch. Ramon dug his thumb into my tortured rib cage, and I winced unable to contain it this time. The mystery man started towards us just that second. “Good Morning, General Alvarez”, he said in a beautiful British accent, “and Miss Hailey.” He softly kissed my hand and thus sent shivers down my spine. Ramon let go of me and took his hand. “I wasn’t expecting you today, Mr McAvoy”, he said in his heavily accented voice. “There was a quite convenient switch of plans”, he explained, though it didn’t explain anything to me. They went on to talk about a particular delivery of weapons – of course, that was what Ramon was doing. Selling weapons, buying weapons, killing people with weapons. And although that all sounds like the work of a warlord, he really wasn’t one. Or at least that was what he told himself. 

I looked at Mr McAvoy for a long time. I took it all in carefully: the way he spoke, the movements of his face and hands and body, the way he gestured and thoughtfully laid out his words to suit whatever Ramon wanted to hear. He was good, and that’s why I was wildly confused by the time the conversation had ended. Why was this elegant man doing all of this? He was not the type of man my husband usually worked with. He seemed too sophisticated, too decent. Nothing about this man said, “I am selling weapons to a warlord”. When he made his farewell, I caught a look in his eyes – and he winked at me so quickly that no one could’ve noticed it but me. What was that all about? Why did he even see me? I was the ghost of a woman, striding along beside my violent, abusive, cruel husband. 

After hours of smiling and shaking hands, I was finally allowed to get back to my room. Of course, I was not allowed to go on my own. Ramon had two of his guardsmen escort me. When I entered my room, Rosa was already there to help me out of my dress. “There was a delivery for you, Miss”, she said shyly after she put my dress away and pointed to the chair by the window, then she reached me a dressing gown. A delivery? Never in my life had I ever had something delivered to me. I never got letters or packages or anything. How could I have gotten a delivery? I took a slow breath, covered myself in the soft fabric of the dressing gown, and walked towards the package. It was not too big and wrapped up in brown paper. I stopped right before it and looked out the window for a moment. For someone who was here on vacation, this was a really nice hotel. I thought about that for a while before it occurred to me: Of course! I was in a bloody hotel! No one was watching my door here when I wasn’t in my room, especially not during a gathering like this. The hotel staff could’ve brought anything up here during the event. Well, anything that passed Ramon’s security guys in the lobby. This little, wrapped box, however, had made it to my room. It seemed like a miracle to me. “You can go, Rosa. Thank you for your help”, I finally said as I reached for the box. “Very well, Miss”, Rosa said and hushed out of my room. 

I took the package an sat down on the bed with it, carefully placing it in front of me. Then I slowly tore off the brown paper. Underneath was a plain black box and a letter on top of it that said “Hailey”. I slowly opened the letter with shaking hands. It was handwritten, apparently by a man. Before I started reading, I got up to close the door. Walking was a lot easier now, without the dress cutting into my injuries. I also closed the curtains, although I was on the 57th floor. Nobody could know about this letter or the box that came with it, which was why I couldn’t be careful enough. I went back to bed and read the letter. 

_Dear Miss Hailey,_

_My name is James McAvoy. With deep commiseration, I regret to tell you that your father passed away a few days ago. I was a colleague and friend of your late father at the lab, and he told me all about you and your situation. You know that your father was in charge of the laboratory and its experiments. I don’t have to tell you what he did, for you know that his work got you into this awful marriage and he did never regret anything as much as that. He wanted you to know that he loved you very much and spent his last months working on a way to get you back.  
I work in the management department of the lab which grants me access to a lot of influential people. But right now is not the time for details, you just need to know that I want to help you. If you choose to accept my help, I need you to signal me with the device inside the black box. It is one of the better things your father has developed. As soon as I get your signal, I will find a way to meet you, and I will fill you in on the plan. _

_You will be free soon, I promise._

_Yours truly,  
James _

I re-read the letter six times. After the third time, I had come to terms with the fact that my father had died. He had been my hero for the most of my life, being my only parent and closest friend. The weeks before they had come to take me away he had started to get lost in his work, and I had not seen much of him anymore. Ramon had charged his lab with the development of a unique weapon. As far as I knew it was supposed to kill very slowly. It was more like a torture instrument than a weapon. My father had worked on it though in a constant struggle with his principles, and so the development took a lot longer than expected. Ramon was furious about it. He threatened my father with all sorts of horrible things but eventually came to take away his daughter. 

With a sob and tears on my cheeks, I came back to reality. Again, I took a long look at the letter. It seemed pretty unrealistic that someone would come to save me. The realisation that I actually was in need of a saviour made me feel even weaker and more helpless than ever. I put the letter away and decided to open the box. As I reached forward, the skin stretched over the bruise on my rib cage, and I let out a sudden scream – and stopped moving. What if someone had heard that? There was at least one guardsman stationed at my door, and he could not ever know about the package or the letter!   
The rattle on the door told me, that he had, in fact, heard my scream. “Open the door, Miss”, the guard said in his military voice. I quickly got up, wincing in pain, and put the box and the letter underneath the bed. Then I hurried to the door, opened it up and let the guard in. “Everything okay, Miss? Do I need to get the General?”, he asked. “No, I’m fine, I just hit my toe. There’s no need to alarm my dear husband”, I lied. I was used to lying to the guards because they either didn’t care that I was being hit by their leader or the enjoyed it. Either way, it wouldn’t do any good to tell them about why I actually screamed. “You should go to bed now, Miss”, the man said monotonously, “The General will take the earliest flight tomorrow.” Then he closed the door, and I was left alone in my big beautiful prison cell. 

I limped back to the bed and got the box out from under the bed. I placed it on the blanket and pulled off the box lid. Inside the box was a lot of foam material and in the middle laid a little device. It was round and black with a bright red button. I took it out and looked at it for a moment. James had written that he was going to meet me. How did he want to do that? I was heavily guarded most of the time, locked in a room at home or in a hotel. Also, we would be flying to Puerto Rico by tomorrow so how did James think he could find me? Was that the reason he had come to the party today? I took a deep breath which hurt more than I’d like to admit. Because Ramon had hit me – and he had enjoyed it. He would do it again and again, just to get off. He would tie my hands together behind my back and hit me with his belt. He would throw things at me, push me around, throw me against walls or over furniture. And he would always have his reasons – very constructed ones, but what did that matter to him? I felt the sickness rise in my stomach and pushed the red button.

**Author's Note:**

> I am planning on making this a multi-chapter story.   
> There will be more fluff, but also a non-con part.   
> Let me know, what you think :)


End file.
